


Loss

by SweetSass228



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Fenris Has Issues, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Hawke Has Issues, Post-All That Remains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 19:15:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8680168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetSass228/pseuds/SweetSass228
Summary: Hawke is in mourning and refuses to leave the estate and her friends are worried for her health. Fenris had tried to avoid her after what had happened between them but if Hawke won't take care of herself then someone will have to.





	

Hawke felt nothing. She felt as empty as the estate. No conversations to be heard near the fire. No scribbling of ink on paper. She couldn't even smell her perfume anymore, a scent she remembered from childhood. No sounds, other than Orana scraping something together in the kitchen. But these were not the sounds Hawke was looking for.

She glanced over at the trays of cold food and tea that had started to pile up by the door. Orana insisted, the sweet girl. Hawke couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten anything but she couldn't bring herself to do anything really. Except drink next to the fire. Hunger gnawed at her insides but Hawke couldn't find enough energy to even pick herself up off the ground, let alone eat something. 

She felt the burning of tears starting to well up and she rubbed them away. Hawke hated crying. The last time she'd cried was when her father had died and her mother had an emotional breakdown in their home. Soleanna had been in charge of taking care of the twins after that. Taking on the role of a parent while her mother recovered. She tried not to cry after Carver had died, instead letting her younger sister cry into her shoulder on the boat towards Kirkwall. 

The estate wouldn't be the same without her mother's voice waking her up in the morning, reminding her of some letters that needed to be read or some breakfast that was getting cold. She remembered the way she would lick her thumb and then try to wipe away the little smudges of red leftover from Hawke's signature marking across her nose. The way her eyebrows would furrow in frustration but there would be a hint of fondness in her eyes. She remembered her mother hated it when Hawke would do it as a child, asking her mother for a few coppers every few weeks for some new paint, but she soon grew used to it. When her eldest had grown ill during the winter and was disappointed at being confined to her bedroom for a few weeks, Leandra would apply the markings for her to make her feel better. To make her smile.

So many people had left her already. Her father, Carver, Bethany, Fenris. All of her friends she'd left behind in Ferelden. She'd even lost some friends she'd made here in Kirkwall. So many of her loved ones gone, taken from her. Hawke wondered if it was some sort of punishment, a curse that might run through the Hawke/Amell lineage. Or maybe it was just her. Just being around her spelled certain doom for her loved ones.

Certain smells brought back memories. The smell of burning wood reminded her of the soup her mother used to make during the Lothering winters, when Bethany would practice her fire magic to keep them warm with Father helping her. The smell of the flowers near her desk reminded her of her mother's gorgeous garden that she treated like it was a part of the family. Lilies had been her favorite. Even her natural sweet scent was still around her, enveloping her and choking her. Her mind and body encouraged her to leave, to just step outside and breath some fresh air to replace the suffocating scents inside. But Hawke couldn't find the energy needed to flee anymore.

There was a soft, timid knock at the door that Hawke didn't notice until a voice spoke up.

"Um, H-Hawke? It's Merrill. Um... V-Varric invited us all out to the Hanged Man for a game of Wicked Grace. S-so if you want to come, um ... We'll save a chair for you." After that, Hawke could hear small footsteps leading away from the door. Hushed high pitched voices speaking and then more footsteps. Then the muffled sound of her front door closing.

For a moment, Hawke considered it. Considered getting up and having some drinks with her friends. To just spend an evening trying to forget. But she lacked the real motivation she needed. All she wanted to do was sit and rot away until there was nothing but dust in her place. 

She was just so tired. She couldn't remember being this tired.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

The usual weekly game of Wicked Grace was about to start. Merrill was late as usual and Hawke was... a difficult situation. The past few weeks had been nothing but despair and grief and Varric had hoped that by bringing everyone together for the usual game would ease some of the tension. But it wouldn't work if the person who needed it most wasn't there with them. Isabela brought over a tray of ale for all present and sat down in her usual seat. Aveline and Anders, the closest ones to the rogue pirate, grabbed a tankard almost as soon as the tray hit the wooden table and Anders nearly downed half of it in one gulp. Varric gratefully accepted one that had been passed by Aveline, sliding a tankard that was only half full down towards Merrill's seat. Someone set down some ale next to Fenris but he paid it no mind. He preferred the wine in his own cellar and would usually only drink the Hanged Man's offerings if he knew they were going to be there for a while or if he really needed the drink. If Hawke would be there tonight, he wanted to be sober enough to watch her.

They all looked up as the dainty elf approached their table. Unsurprisingly, alone.

She shook her head at their questions that hadn't been asked yet. "She's not coming. I don't think she even heard me. Bodahn says that she's barely eaten and she hasn't left her room in a while." Merrill stopped and looked down at her feet in anguish. "I miss her."

That sentence had more than one meaning. When Hawke had lost her mother, she'd changed noticeably. She'd lost that warm smile that could light up a dark room. She seemed to glare at everything with cold eyes, as if everything below her was worthless dirt. Hawke used to be able to take the darkest of situations and make a joke out of it (though nearly all of her jokes were terrible). Her ability to laugh and smile her way through it sprouted confidence in her companions and they would follow her to the ends of Thedas if Hawke was at the lead.

Soleanna Hawke was not the same woman and her friends feared that she never would be again.

 

Varric cleared his throat to break the awkward silence that had captured them. "We... could still play a few rounds. Have a few drinks. Might take our minds off things." He offered. He genuinely needed the drink but the cards could keep tensions at bay for maybe a few hours. The group at the table shared looks that they each seemed to recognize and Varric began shuffling the cards.

"Broody? You in?" Varric's voice disrupted the elf's thinking and he shook his head to clear his mind.

"I will join you later. I'm going to take a walk." Fenris stood, turned on his heel and headed towards the entrance, catching Varric's warning about wandering about during night as he walked out the door.

 

\---------------------------------------

 

Fenris never cared for the musty, bitter smell of Kirkwall's lower city streets. He got used to it, of course, eventually learning to ignore it entirely. But it served as a constant reminder of the different luxuries this city could give. Fenris wasn't a fan of Hightown either. Tevinter slavers, shopkeeps who rob innocent people of their hard-earned gold. Mercenaries who stand by the docks, looking menacing and daring anyone to step too close. The only good thing about Hightown had been the Hawke Family Estate. Sometimes, when Fenris had to escort Hawke home after too many drinks at the Hanged Man, Leandra would try and make Fenris stay for a little longer. Bribe him with some tea, even offered him the guest bedroom when it was raining or the nights were too cold. He'd politely declined nearly all offers (Leandra's tea was actually quite good, sweet and warm) but it made him smile knowing that she'd cared for Hawke's companions.

_Fenris set down the damp cloth he was using to clean his sword when frantic knocking echoed throughout his estate. He rushed down the stairs and to his front door with only a slight err of caution. When he opened the door, he was greeted to the sight of a panting Hawke with only bits and pieces of her armor on but her signature daggers were strapped tightly to her back. "Hawke? What is-" "Fenris, I need you to get Varric while I grab Anders. My-My mother she's..." Hawke's voice trailed off as she ran her fingers through her black hair. Her voice was filled with fear and Fenris could see her fingers shaking. "Hawke. Hawke, look at me." Fenris reached forward to grab a shaky hand and Hawke's blue eyes were watery when they looked up at him. "Fenris... He has my mother."_

 

He still remembered the horrified tone of Hawke's voice as they followed all the clues that led them to Leandra. He didn't think he'd ever be able to forget it. He'd looked at his companions, Anders and Varric, and they both had the same look of concern and dread. This wasn't the Hawke they had all come to know and care for. It was like she was a completely different person. He'd wanted nothing more than to grab Hawke and pull her out of that dreadful, evil place. He remembered how pale her skin had turned once they saw what her mother had become. He thought she would double over and start retching if she opened her mouth or she would faint if she stepped forward. Fenris had never seen Hawke cry before, not even when Bethany had been taken from her. After their battle had been over and Hawke went to cradle her dying mother, he saw thick tears streaming down Hawke's face. All he wanted was to step forward and wipe away her tears as she said goodbye but something held him back. A thick hot wave of shame ran through his body and he shuddered in the cold night air.

 

_The trio of men followed Hawke through the streets of Lowtown as droplets of blood led the way. There had been a few times when they lost the trail but they always found more blood. Hawke's voice grew more frantic as they followed the trail all the way to the old foundry. When they entered, a chill ran through their spines as a sudden wave of deja vu struck them. As Anders reminded Hawke of the humans remains they'd found the last time they'd investigated, Fenris saw Hawke's shoulders shake in what he assumed to be fear and he was filled with the overwhelming urge to plunge his fist into the mage's chest and take Hawke away from this place. They'd looked around for any sign of Leandra until Varric found more blood next to what looked like a door to somewhere underground. "This... This wasn't here before. She must be down there. With him." Hawke's voice shook and Fenris saw her start to blink rapidly to get rid of the forming tears._

Fenris ducked behind a tall, wide pillar near the shadows as a group of five hooded figures scampered by. It was very common for thieves and bandits to come out to prey on those who had wandered outside during the night, especially in Hightown. Fenris could have easily taken care of them before continuing on his way, maybe make Aveline's job a little easier or get a few extra coin, but he'd learned the hard way that there were always more hidden away to surprise you. They were still amateurish at best but that didn't mean their daggers and arrows hurt less.

 

_The air around them smelled dank and there was a hint of what they assumed was burning wood. It was darkened but lanterns had been lit and Fenris could sense the magic in the air. Hawke took off in front of them, ignoring Ander's warning, and had nearly been sliced apart by a shade that pulled itself from the darks pits in the ground. The lyrium markings burned bright as Fenris dashed forward and Varric readied his arrows, the cold air becoming warmer as Anders utilized his fire magic. Hawke retreated back as Fenris charged in front of her and stuck his sword deep into the demon, twisting his blade as the creature screamed and then faded away. Hawke jumped forward with her daggers drawn and dug them into the shoulders of another, seeing one coming straight towards her on her left. An arrow flew right by her and ended up in the creature's large single eye and it howled in pain until another arrow stuck itself in the shade's chest. It fell but more just kept coming to replace it. When the fight was finally over and the warrior and rogue's armor were spotted with blood, Hawke spotted a woman wearing a formal gown lying motionless on a table. She ran straight towards her, calling out to her mother, and jumped back in surprise when the dead woman looked nothing like her mother. "Alessa..."_

When the bandits finally moved out of sight, Fenris continued down the Hightown road. The roads were still damp from the afternoon rain and the statue of Andraste was dripping slow drops of water onto the stairs leading up to the Chantry. Fenris was not a religious elf but he found Andraste to be an interesting character. So much lore, so much history. He'd asked Hawke what she knew about Andraste and her response had been vague. Seemed the Hawke family wasn't very religious either.

_After finding the poor woman on the bloody cot, Hawke noticed a folded up, dusty piece of paper sitting next to the body. "'Used quicklime to... preserve her feet. Unsure if... texture of skin is... Will try other methods'... W-what is this? What is he doing?" Hawke dropped the letter as if it had burned her hands and shivered. After some persuasion from Varric, they continued moving forward in the dark caverns. They moved briskly until a harsh stench acted almost like a barrier to keep them from going. "Maker, what is that smell?" Anders groaned and Fenris felt his stomach churn as he smelled the familiar tang of blood. Hawke looked to the ground and dropped to her knees, digging at the dirt until she pulled out a silver chain with an oval shaped locket attached. "Mother's locket..." She clutched it close to her chest and quickly packed it away in her pocket. She barely had time to get back to her feet before more abominations appeared out of nowhere._

Slaves in Tevinter were not allowed to learn the Chant of Light or even of how Andraste came to be the prophet everyone knew her by. Fenris had learned bits and pieces on his travels and the lore had intrigued him. He'd been surprised to find out that an elf, Shartan, had made quite an impact in the lore. Perhaps he should talk to Hawke about those reading lessons she'd mentioned a while back...

_When the battle was over, Hawke was exhausted and covered in blood but the adrenaline running through her kept her going. She barely paused to give her companions a break before continuing on but stopping in a room filled with bookshelves and a torn up looking bed. She almost tripped on an open book that had some symbols she could faintly recognize from the books Father had given Bethany in Lothering. When her friends finally caught up with her, they found her approaching a large painting of a woman that was surrounded by melted candles, white wax hardened on the wooden table below the painting. "What is... this?" Hawke muttered as she stepped closer to the painting. "She looks kind of like Leandra, doesn't she?" Varric asked the question all four of them were thinking of and Hawke's already pale face turned ghostly. "We have to keep going."_

When Fenris finally made it to the estate door, after hiding from multiple patrols and pausing to look at Andraste, he hesitated. It'd been quite a while since him and Hawke had spoken privately, not since...

_The blood mage looked up as the intruders stormed in and Hawke demanded to know where her mother was. There was a white figure slumped in the chair next to him and Fenris could see grey hair sticking out. When the figure stood up on it's shaky legs and turned to face them, his stomach dropped and he could see Hawke freeze in place. Her hands shook violently and he could see the tears getting ready to fall. The mage, his calm face now turned furious, pulled out a dagger and made a vertical slice on his arm. Shades crawled through the dirt around them and a Desire demon appeared seemingly out of no where, giving a chilling laugh as the creatures attacked. But Hawke remained frozen. "Hawke! Hawke, move!" Fenris shouted, cutting down a creature in front of her as she finally came to her senses. The battle was brutal and long but Hawke got the satisfaction of digging her blade deep into the mage's chest and then pulling it out, only to shove it back in, blood seeping out of the wound. The limping monstrosity would have collapsed if Hawke hadn't caught it and she could recognize her mother in it's eyes. "My girl... I knew you'd come..." It muttered in a voice that sounded like Leandra's. "Mother... I was too late. I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry." Hawke sobbed, the heavy tears falling on the dirty white gown. "Shhh, my darling. You'll be alright. You're my little sunshine, aren't you? My big girl. I'm so proud of you. I love you. I... love you." Leandra's voice faded away and Hawke would have given anything to hear it again. To feel her mother's heartbeat, to hear her sing to her when she couldn't sleep, to make her favorite dish when she was sad. She wanted her mother back._

Fenris huffed and ran a hand through his hair. He still had that image of Hawke carved into his memory. Wrapped up in her red silk blankets, looking up at him by the fireplace with that hurt, betrayed expression. She looked like he had just struck her as hard as he possibly could. Like he'd plunged his spiked fist straight into her chest and was holding her precious heart in his hand, waiting for him to crush it into a gorey mess. Maybe she'd cried back then after he'd left. That memory has been a constant reminder of what he'd so foolishly given up. If he wasn't so scared of who he was, if he had just stayed in that bed and talked to Hawke, told her what he really felt instead of running away. He wondered what would be different now if he had. 

Now he had another image burned into his brain. Hawke weeping over her dead mother while Varric rubbed her back and tried to guide her away. At first, Hawke had refused to leave her mother, pleading with Anders, telling him to do something, anything. But only dark magic could reverse death, and the outcome was atrocious. Fenris had felt so useless. She'd needed someone to comfort her, someone to wipe her tears away and tell her that it would be alright. But that would have been a lie. It would take a long time for all of them to fully recover.

The door handle was cold when he touched it and it was dark in the house. No candles lit, the fireplace had no embers he could see. Orana was probably asleep in one of the guest rooms, which had been turned into her own temporary room after Hawke hired her. Fenris quietly walked further into the house, observing as he went. Hawke's desk on the far side of the room was covered in various books and letters. It looked like it hadn't been touched in years. Fenris remembered the many times Leandra had greeted him when he'd walked in. She'd either be reading one of the many books they had stored or drinking the coffee or tea that Orana made. He winced at the bittersweet memories and continued up the stairs.

He approached Hawke's door and leaned in until his ear was pressed against the door. No sound. That worried him. If he opened that door and Hawke wasn't there... He didn't want to think about it. At all.

The door wasn't locked. When he peered in, he saw Hawke sitting in front of her dimmed out fire with her arms wrapped her legs and her chin resting on her knees. If the moonlight wasn't showing Fenris her face, he could have sworn she was something else entirely. She looked thin, her color even more pale than usual. As he approached, he noticed the expression she wore. He could see her chest slowly moving up and down but it looked like she was just a corpse. Nobody had seen Hawke in weeks but he would never have guessed she'd gotten this bad this fast.

"Hawke?" No response. Not even a twitch. "Hawke."

That got her attention. She'd looked up at him with dead eyes, looking at him as if she couldn't recognize him. There was still a small smudge of red across her nose but it was so faded that he would have missed it if he wasn't looking for it. There were obvious streaks on her cheeks where her tears had smeared the red on her face.

"Fenris?"

She sounded like her throat had been burned, like talking brought her immense pain. He wondered how long it had been since she'd spoken.

"Hawke, I'm here. I cannot do much, but I am here." He took a seat next to her, both turning their heads to look at the remains of the fire.

"Came to see me waste away, did you?" A bitter laugh came from her and she took another drink of the bottle in her hands. "Well, go ahead. Maker knows I can't stop you."

A pregnant silence filled the house. Hours might have passed before Hawke finally spoke, voice still dry and broken.

"It's my fault. I couldn't protect my family. My father, my brother. My sister, my..." She trailed off as tears pooled down her face. She buried her nose into her knees as she cried. This was now the second time he had seen Hawke cry.

Fenris reached over to lightly place his hand on her shoulder, moving his hand in slow circles in a comforting manner while being cautious with the sharpened tips of his gauntlet. He didn't have much experience with consoling but it hurt to see Hawke in such a broken state.

"It's my fault... it's my fault... it's my fault..." She kept repeating and repeating, like a broken mantra.

"Hawke, please. Look at me." Fenris spoke quietly but loud enough for Hawke to hear him over her sobs. When she didn't respond, he reached over to gently pull the bottle out of her hand.

She looked up with tears still streaming down her face. Her once blue eyes, ones that he often got lost in, had dimmed to a dull grey color. It reminded him of the way Leandra had looked when she passed and Fenris suppressed a shudder at the thought of Hawke taking her place.

"What happened was a tragedy. But it was not your fault, Hawke. Your mother loved you, your family loved you. Your friends love you."

 _I love you._

His words seemed to have slowed her flow of tears but they still fell from her watery eyes. She lightly wiped some tears away and then buried her face in his shoulder. It surprised him but he didn't push her away. Instead he placed a hand on her back and leaned his head against hers, ignoring the sting of the lyrium as her tears dripped onto them.

"Bethany, my little sister. C-Carver. We used to... play, in the fields. In Lothering. We would throw wooden swords at each other, a stupid way to pass the time. B-Bethany would practice her spells with me. I-I didn't even know magic. But she insisted. I think Carver was jealous, he didn't know a thing about magic and he was t-too embarrassed to ask. Father would have taught him something, just so he didn't feel left out." Fenris let her speak as her body shook and her voice wavered. He could hear her swallow and her sharp intake of breath.

He gently grabbed onto her shoulder and stood slowly, helping her stand on unsteady legs and bringing her over to the bed. When she realized that she couldn't struggle against him, Hawke went without a single complaint and just let herself be led to her bed.

"I didn't want you to see me like this, Fenris. I don't deserve this." Whether she was speaking about the loss of her family or his kindness, Fenris didn't care. Hawke needed him and he wasn't going to leave until she was taken care of. 

"Quiet, Hawke. How long has it been since you've slept?" Fenris soothed her with a gentle voice, unlatching his gauntlet so he could feel her soft hair in between his fingers.

Her silence answered his question and he sighed, standing only for a moment to pull back Hawke's sheets and gesture for her to lay down in the spot he cleared for her. When she finally did what he asked, he pulled the covers up to her waist and ran his fingers through her hair once more to help her relax. Her eyes closed slowly and Fenris could see the tension in her body start to fade until she went limp.

When he was certain she was about to doze off, he went to go clean up some of the bottles and books lying around. A harsh tug on his arm pulled him back to the bed and Hawke's sleepy blue eyes looking up at him.

"Don't leave me. Please." The way she looked at him made his chest ache with sympathy. She looked exactly like she did during the end of their night together.

"I won't leave you, Hawke. I'm not leaving." He reassured her as he stepped back to peel off the rest of his protective armor. He could feel her eyes on him as he did, her mind making sure that he wouldn't leave. That he would stay like he promised her he would.

When he was finished and his armor was in a neat little pile by the fireplace, he went around to the other side of the bed and pulled back the covers. At first he was hesitant. These were still the same sheets they'd... spent the night on, the same ones wrapped around Hawke's body when he left her. And they'd never decided to discuss what had happened between them. But with the way she was looking at him now, eyes both fearful and hopeful at the same time, he couldn't bring himself to leave. He wished he'd never left

She moved closer once he was comfortable in bed, wrapping her arms around his torso and burying her face in his chest. She'd moved so fast she surprised him but he recovered quick enough to return her embrace. His fingers ran up and down her back to comfort her and he could hear her soft breaths on his skin. He wondered if this would have been his life every night if he hadn't been so foolish. He would sleep with her, wake up with her, live with her. It would have been perfect. But, nothing was truly perfect.

"I'm here, Hawke. I won't leave you. You're safe." He repeated to her at random intervals, just to reassure her that this was _real_. That _he_ was real.

She fell asleep quickly as he stroked her back and Fenris couldn't remember seeing Hawke this peaceful. She'd been running around ever since he'd met her. Slaying monsters, killing bandits, retrieving stolen property. Always with a smile and a bad joke. Now he understood why she always smiled. She'd never been given a break and now she'd lost the last remnants of her family. Who would she be if she couldn't smile and laugh it all away? 

With another quick look at her sleeping face, Fenris pressed a light kiss to her forehead and closed his eyes, following her into a peaceful slumber.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this for about 4+ months and spent a lot of time editing and adding more in but I'm finally satisfied with it. When I uploaded it, it was really late so I might have forgotten to fix a spelling mistake or maybe left something in that I shouldn't have so if you spot anything let me know in the comments. Thanks!


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